You can never hold back springYou can be sureI will never stop believingThe blushing rose that will climbSpring ahead or fall behindWinter dreams the same dream every timeBaby you can never hold back spring

Then the grass at your door grows into the color of the sprouting grain, and the buds upon the lilacs swell and burst. The peaches bloom upon the wall, and the plums wear bodices of white. The sparkling oriole picks string for his hammock on the sycamore, and the sparrows twitter in pairs. The old elms throw down their dingy flowers, and color their spray with green; and the brooks, where you throw your worm or the minnow, float down whole fleets of the crimson blossoms of the maple. Finally the oaks step into the opening quadrille of spring, with grayish tufts of a modest verdure, which by-and-by will be long and glossy leaves. The dogwood pitches his broad, white tent in the edge of the forest; the dandelions lie along the hillocks, like stars in a sky of green; and the wild cherry, growing in all the hedge-rows, without other culture than God's, lifts up to Him thankfully its tremulous white fingers.

DONALD G. MITCHELL, "Spring", Dream Life: A Fable of the Seasons

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Spring as concept raged in upon us, a somber tide of longing. Its advent roused the passions of those nameless multitudes fallen between the cracks of the city, sweeping them noiselessly toward the quicksands of futility.

The sparkling spring draws every day new colors, new insects, new flowers, out of the earth.

JOHANN PAUL RICHTER, attributed, Day's Collacon

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Once there was a thing called springWhen the world was writing verses like yours and mineAll the lads and girls would singWhen we sat at little tables and drank May wineNow April, May, and June are sadly out of tuneLife has stuck a pin in the balloonSpring is here! Why doesn't my heart go dancing?Spring is here! Why isn't the waltz entrancing?No desire, no ambition leads meMaybe it's because nobody needs me?Spring is here! Why doesn't the breeze delight me?Stars appear! Why doesn't the night invite me?Maybe it's because nobody loves meSpring is here, I hear!

Spring is strong and virtuous,Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous,Quickening underneath the mouldGrains beyond the price of gold.So deep and large her bounties are,That one broad, long midsummer dayShall to the planet overpayThe ravage of a year of war.